Read Online Trying to Find Chinatown: The Selected Plays of David Henry Hwang by David Henry Hwang - Free Book Online Page B

did.
    MA: Yang told me it was gonna be done. He said—
    LONE: Yes, I remember.
    MA: Didn’t I tell you? Huh?
    LONE: Ma, eat your duck.
    MA: Nine days, we civilized the white devils. I knew it. I knew we’d hold out ’til their ears started twitching. So that’s where you got the duck, right? At the celebration?
    LONE: No, there wasn’t a celebration.
    MA: Huh? You sure? Chinamen—they look for any excuse to party.
    LONE: But I thought we should celebrate.
    MA: Well, that’s for sure.
    LONE: So you will play Gwan Gung.
    MA: God, nine days. Shit, it’s finally done. Well, we’ll show them how to party. Make noise. Jump off rocks. Make the mountain shake.
    LONE: We’ll wash your body, to prepare you for the role.
    MA: What role?
    LONE: Gwan Gung. I’ve been telling you.
    MA: I don’t wanna play Gwan Gung.
    LONE: You’ve shown the dedication required to become my student, so—
    MA: Lone, you think I stayed up last night ’cause I wanted to play Gwan Gung?
    LONE: You said you were like him.
    MA: I am. Gwan Gung stayed up all night once to prove his loyalty. Well, now I have too. Lone, I’m honored that you told me your story.
    LONE: Yes . . . That is like Gwan Gung.
    MA: Good. So let’s do an opera about me .
    LONE: What?
    MA: You wanna party or what?
    LONE: About you?
    MA: You said I was like Gwan Gung, didn’t you?
    LONE: Yes, but—
    MA: Well, look at the operas he’s got. I ain’t even got one.
    LONE: Still, you can’t—
    MA: You tell me, is that fair?
    LONE: You can’t do an opera about yourself.
    MA: I just won a victory, didn’t I? I deserve an opera in my honor.
    LONE: But it’s not traditional.
    MA: Traditional? Lone, you gotta figure any way I could do Gwan Gung wasn’t gonna be traditional anyway. I may be as good a guy as him, but he’s a better dancer. (Sings)
    Old Gwan Gung, just sits about
’Til the dime-store fighters have had it out
Then he pitches his peach pit
Combs his beard
Draws his sword
And they scatter in fear
     
    LONE: What are you talking about?
    MA: I just won a great victory. I get—whatcha call it?—poetic license. C’mon. Hit the gongs. I’ll immortalize my story.
    LONE: I refuse. This goes against all my training. I try and give you your wish and—
    MA: Do it. Gimme my wish. Hit the gongs.
    LONE: I never—I can’t.
    MA: Can’t what? Don’t think I’m worth an opera? No, I guess not. I forgot—you think I’m just one of those dead men.
    (Silence. Lone pulls out a gong. Ma gets into position to begin. Lone hits the gong. They do the following in mock-Chinese-opera style.)
     
     
    I am Ma. Yesterday, I was kicked out of my house by my three elder brothers, calling me the lazy dreamer of the family. I am sitting here in front of the temple trying to decide how I will avenge this indignity. Here comes the poorest beggar in this village . (He cues Lone) He is called Fleaman because his body is the most popular meeting place for fleas from around the province.
    LONE (Singing) :
    Fleas in love,
Find your happiness
In the gray scraps of my suit
     
    MA: Hello, Flea—
    LONE (Continuing) :
    Fleas in need
Shield your families
In the gray hairs of my beard
     
    MA: Hello, Flea—
    (Lone cuts Ma off, continues an extended improvised aria.)
     
     
    Hello, Fleaman.
    LONE: Hello, Ma. Are you interested in providing a home for these fleas?
    MA: No!
    LONE: This couple here—seeking to start a new home. Housing today is so hard to find. How about your left arm?
    MA: I may have plenty of my own fleas in time. I have been thrown out by my elder brothers.
    LONE: Are you seeking revenge? A flea epidemic on your house? (To aflea) Get back there. You should be asleep. Your mother will worry.
    MA: Nothing would make my brothers angrier than seeing me rich.
    LONE: Rich? After the bad crops of the last three years, even the fleas are thinking of moving north.
    MA: I heard a white devil talk yesterday.
    LONE: Oh—with hair the color of a sick chicken and eyes round as eggs? The fleas